


Roller Coaster

by SherlockedWitch



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Accidental wetting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Omorashi, Roller Coasters, Wetting, which didn't really need a tag but might as well tag it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedWitch/pseuds/SherlockedWitch
Summary: As they lower the safety bar down in front of them, Freddie swallows. Is this a good idea? He doesn’t think it is — oh, god — maybe he should have just gone beforehand. Before this ride. He’d needed to before Roger had even suggested they get in line for this one. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt, though, and he definitely hadn’t wanted to make them lose their spot once they were in line.





	Roller Coaster

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is just a small, fun (Freddie and I might have different definitions of fun...) little fic I inexplicably felt compelled to write in my free time today. 
> 
> This is clearly an omorashi story, so I would probably turn back now, if that's not your thing. 
> 
> Also sorry for Deaky not being in this at all - I wholeheartedly love him, but in my mind he was busy this day and couldn't come with them, I guess.

“Freddie? You okay?” 

Brian cannot help but to ask. Freddie’s fidgeting an awful lot, after all. Sure, he’s not always the most patient person in the world, but they’ve only been in line for a short while. They’re nearly at the front, too. 

Roger’s noticed it as well, and he turns to Freddie, speaking before he can even answer. “Are you nervous? Did you not want to do this one?” he asks quietly, because it wouldn’t surprise him if Freddie was the sort of person to be afraid of large roller coasters. 

“No — I’m okay. I — I want to do it,” Freddie insists shyly, willing himself to try and stand still. Fuck. He’s being too obvious. 

“It’s going to be fun, just wait,” Roger grins, hoping his excitement is infectious. He’s not a hundred percent convinced that Freddie’s telling the truth. He does seem rather nervous, but he says he wants to do it… surely he’ll enjoy it once they’re actually on? And he’s not — he’s not panicking, or anything. So he can’t be too terrified. Freddie isn’t good at hiding fear. 

It's only another five minutes before they’re at the front of the line, and then being let onto the ride. Roger insists they sit near the front, and Brian and Freddie follow his lead. The cars can only fit two people, so Roger has Freddie sit down first and then slides in after him, while Brian sits behind them. 

As they lower the safety bar down in front of them, Freddie swallows. Is this a good idea? He doesn’t think it is — oh, god — maybe he should have just gone beforehand. Before this ride. He’d needed to before Roger had even suggested they get in line for this one. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt, though, and he definitely hadn’t wanted to make them lose their spot once they were in line. They haven’t even been here that long, and he already made them wait for him while he went to the loo when they first arrived. He’d felt annoying enough doing that. He’d usually rather wait until Brian or Roger have to go, and then just tag along...but no, that isn’t feasible, not anymore. 

He’ll have to say something, when they get off this ride. He really has to go now. His anxiety over the rollercoaster isn’t helping. There’s an uncomfortable fullness, an urgent pressure, in his lower abdomen. Too much tea this morning. Too much for knowing that he would be spending lots of time away from home today. It’s like it’s all pooled there, sloshing around, and — and a little bit had already leaked out, back in the line. Just a small bit, a small damp spot on his underwear. Its nothing. Yet — its a warning. He needs to go soon. 

Please don’t last long, Freddie thinks. He presses his thighs together, wriggling for only a second before forcing himself to be still. Roger is right next to him— he’ll notice, if he squirms too much. Freddie knows he will. 

The ride starts. 

It’s not so bad, at first. There’s some turns, but nothing very fast, no scary drops. Freddie isn’t having a particularly bad time. He’s mostly just distracted. It’s bumpy, jolting — it’s making things harder for him. Harder to hold it. 

They start to go up a hill. A really quite large hill, or so it feels. Freddie makes the mistake of glancing down towards the ground as they near the top. He gets increasingly anxious — oh, god, they’re so high up. He needs a wee. He needs a wee right now. It — it’s so bad, suddenly. How could it have gotten worse, in just the short amount of time they’ve been on this ride? But it is, he feels like it is — and there must be a drop coming, they’re going to drop down after they reach the top. He knows it, he expects it, and yet the force of it still takes him by surprise —

Fast. They’re going so fast, and he feels forced against the back of the seat as they momentarily race towards the ground. There are people screaming, laughing, even, including Roger, who looks like he’s having the time of his life, but Freddie finds that he can’t make a single noise. 

He doesn’t like it, much. It’s exhilarating but not in a decidedly good way. He wants it to be over, please, just get it over with — it’s too fast, they’re doing too many twists and turns and he’s getting jostled around too much, and — oh — oh, no —

It’s too much for him. It’s too much for his body. Along with the wind on his face, Freddie feels a rush of warm, awful wetness begin spilling into his trousers. It’s coming out. It’s coming out so fast, it hasn’t even begun as a trickle. It’s just a full-on stream, rapid, and he can feel it soaking quickly through his underwear and spreading all over his crotch, and his bottom. Will it pool under him? Will there be a puddle? Fuck —

He tries to stop. He does try. He just can’t, though. It’s just coming out no matter what he does. One of his hands is on the bar in front of him, but he sacrifices his other hand, letting go and grabbing ahold of himself in a desperate attempt to cease the flow. 

It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work, he just keeps weeing, and it gets all over his hand. How could he do this? He feels positively sick with horror. Oh god. Oh god, the rides ending, they’re slowing down, pulling back in to where they started at. The last of his wee is flowing out, and then finally, that slows down, too. 

He’s wet. His eyes well up with tears. He’s so wet... he hazards a glance down, and he can see it, the wetness on his crotch and his thighs. How awful. How childish. How could he have done this? They’re stopping. They’re stopping, and Roger is saying something, but Freddie doesn’t catch what it is, too caught up in his own mortified bubble of horror. 

“That was fun — right, Freddie?” Roger smiles, only now looking at Freddie, realizing that he hadn’t paid quite a lot of attention to him for most of the ride. 

Freddie doesn’t look at him, though. 

“Freddie?” Roger repeats, concerned. Oh — oh, fuck, is he crying? His face is red. Oh god. Oh, maybe he really was scared...

Brian has already gotten out of his seat, and is standing by, waiting for them. What are they doing?

“Freddie, it’s —“ Roger cuts himself off, because he’s glanced down. Freddie’s holding his crotch. Shit. Shit. For a brief moment, Roger thinks, we’ll have to get him to a toilet, right now. Except, it only takes another second of looking for him to realize that they’re already too late for that. 

Freddie is wet. Freddie has an accident. 

And Freddie is clearly very upset, because he’s starting to cry, choking on a sob. 

“R-Roger,” is all Freddie can managed to whimper. What is he meant to do? He’s disgusting. He can hear other people getting off the ride. So many people around. Someone will see him. Someone will see him, if he gets up. 

“Oh...Freddie, love — it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t — don’t worry, don’t cry — “ Roger reassures, mind reeling. Dammit. Was Freddie really that scared of the ride, or did he already have to go beforehand? How are they going to get Freddie out of here? 

Brian must see what’s happened now, too, because he’s suddenly intercepting one of the workers who has started towards them. They’re the only ones left on the ride, now, and other people are obviously waiting to be let on. 

“I’m so — s-so sorry,” Freddie whispers, throat tight. He can’t even meet Roger’s eyes. Why does he have to ruin everything? Why does he have to be so embarrassing?

“It’s alright, really. It’s okay. We’ll go, and we can get you cleaned up — it’s not a problem,” Roger says softly. “Listen— you’ve got to stand up though, okay?” 

Freddie shakes his head, glancing at Roger now, eyes wet and alight with fear. 

“Freddie...we can’t stay here. It’ll be okay, but we have to get up so we can leave, love,” Roger explains. They’ve got to just try and get out of here as quick as possible. 

Roger starts to take off his jacket. “Here — when you stand up, I can tie this around your waist, yeah? Then you can walk behind Brian, and then people might not see,” he suggest softly. It’s not foolproof. People are certainly going to see, but it might reduce the number. Or, at the very least, it might convince Freddie to take the walk of shame back to the car. 

Roger stands, holding out a hand to Freddie. “Come on,” he encourages gently, and after a moment of hesitation, Freddie relents and lets Roger pull him to his feet. 

Roger takes his jacket, quickly tying it around Freddie’s waist and then taking his arm, helping him carefully step off of the ride. There’s a visible puddle on the seat, and Freddie is unmistakably wet. The large wet stain on his trousers looks like exactly what it is. 

Freddie is trembling, but he follows, allowing himself to be led, head down with tears trailing down his cheeks. 

Brian rejoins them. He’s had to explain what happened to the worker he talked to, that there was an ...accident. The guy hadn’t seemed pleased, but he hadn’t been harsh about it, either. 

“Walk in front of him,” Roger mutters quietly, briefly meeting Brian’s eyes. They both look tense, but sympathetic. 

Brian nods, and does just that, leading them away from the ride. Roger walks next to Freddie, and he has to keep ahold of his arm to keep him walking in the right direction. Or, really, to keep him walking at all. He looks as if he wants to sink to the ground in misery and have it swallow him up whole.

It’s not actually a long walk back to the car, but it feels like an eternity. There are certainly some people that they pass who, despite Brian trying to shield Freddie from view, definitely notice what has happened. Roger glares at them if they seem amused. Thankfully, Freddie is staring more at his feet than anything, so he probably doesn’t see much of it.

It’s uncomfortable, walking in wet clothes. Freddie is a bit glad when they reach the car, but he’s also just feeling really, incredibly awful. They have to leave because of him. Because of what he did. It’s so unfair, to Roger and Brian, and he has no idea how he can make it up to them. 

Brian opens the backseat door for him, but Freddie just stands there, clearly hesitant to get in. 

It’s Roger’s car. He’s wet, he’ll get the seats wet. Roger will be mad…

Roger seems to understand the problem, though. “It’s alright,” he says. “Just sit on the jacket, and it’ll be alright. I don’t mind, I promise.”

And he doesn’t, not when Freddie is this upset. It’s not pleasant, thinking about the fact that the seat will probably get wet, and that his jacket is certainly already wet — but this is Freddie, who he cannot help but to feel anything other than sorry for. 

They finally get him to climb in, and then Roger and Brian get into the car themselves. Instead of getting into the passenger seat, Brian climbs in beside Freddie in the back.

“I—I’m really sorry — I didn’t — I didn’t mean to — sorry…” Freddie stutters out, voice thick with tears and very, very quiet. 

Brian takes his hand comfortingly. “Oh, Freddie— you don’t have to be sorry. It was an accident,” he soothes. It’s awful to see him cry like this, and to see him so humiliated. Brian is kicking himself. He saw the way Freddie was squirming before they got on the ride, but he thought he was just nervous. He didn’t connect it with what it could have been, what it actually was. Freddie has got the smallest bladder of anyone Brian has ever met— he really should have known what his fidgeting meant. 

“But I—I ruined our day,” Freddie whispers, followed by a sob. 

“No you didn’t,” Brian insists immediately. “You didn’t ruin anything. It was still fun, okay? And we aren’t cross with you, not at all.” 

“He’s right,” Roger chimes in, starting the car. “It really is okay. I’ll get you home as soon as I can, yeah? You can get cleaned up, and we can still all hang out together afterwards, if you feel like it.” He offers this in the hopes that maybe they can show Freddie that the day isn’t ruined. That they really aren’t mad. 

Roger only receives tearful sniffling in response, but that was to be expected. Best to just get going, so he starts to drive. The sooner they can get Freddie changed, the better. He’ll never calm down while he’s still all wet. 

Brian keeps holding his hand, trying to provide some silent support. Freddie doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but he doesn’t pull away. He clings onto his hand, taking shaky breaths. He’s been awful, again, and yet they’re being nothing but nice to him. Again. 

He really doesn’t deserve them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :)


End file.
